The Case of the Disappearing Brother
by Tweeter
Summary: This is an AU which may become a series, The Lonely Detective, if interest is high enough and I can keep the creative juices flowing again. Meet Anthony DiNozzo, Private Investigator. FINAL CHAPTER ADDED.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This story came to me and demanded to be written. It's an AU, but all of our favorite characters are present. Well, most of them. I'm toying with the idea of making this a series of stories.

It's been a long time since I've been able to write a story. Almost a year, if I remember correctly. Tony is still lost at sea in my other story, even though I know how I'm getting him back. I just can't get the details of the case written.

Many thanks to my very patient betas, **thekatebeyond**, **pixie-on-acid** and **rinkle**. I wrote this so quickly that punctuation errors ran rampant. No one complained, which proves they should be eligible for sainthood.

**The Lonely Detective - The Case of the Disappearing Brother**

It was a gray, dismal day. The sky had been weeping buckets for hours, with no end in sight. Business was bad, and not just because of the weather. Ever since the war ended, the jobs didn't come as often; people were still in the blissful honeymoon stage of hard-won peace. I haven't had a case in over two months, and I'm already a month behind in the rent for the rat-hole I call my apartment.

I was sitting there, wallowing in my misery, when the door flew open. Standing there was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. She stood about five foot three, dark hair pulled back into a tasteful chignon; her slim curves were draped in emerald green silk. She had the face of an angel, with red, pouty lips. But it was her eyes that drew me in – her dark, smoldering eyes, framed by almost unnaturally long lashes.

"Sorry, Boss." My assistant's face popped up over the mystery woman's shoulder, looking contrite and angry at the same time. "She just blew right past me."

"That's all right, Abs," I said, rising smoothly. "I'll handle this; you can go back to your desk."

Abby eyed the woman up and down and grinned. "I bet you will," she said, grinning cheekily, and sauntered back to the outer office.

I extended my hand toward the woman. "Anthony DiNozzo, is there something I can help you with?"

She took my hand in a solid grip and shook it briefly. "Ziva David," she said, her accent adding to her exotic air. "I need your help, Mr. DiNozzo," she said simply.

"Please, have a seat," I replied, indicating the chair in front of my desk. "Would you like something to drink? Coffee?"

Miss, or Mrs. David shook her head curtly. "No, thank you. I do not have time to linger and chat, lives are at stake."

"Oh, really?" I replied, eyebrow raised. I sat down behind my desk and leaned back. "Whose lives are we talking about? Mrs…."

"Miss," she interrupted, "but please, call me Ziva."

"That's an unusual name," I said. "Where…"

"I do not have time for this," Ziva cut in abruptly. "My brother has disappeared and I fear that his life is in danger, if he is not already dead. Can you help me?"

"Have you spoken to the police?"

Ziva waved dismissively. "They have rules and regulations that they are not willing to change. They say he hasn't been missing long enough."

"How long has it been since you last saw or spoke to him?" I inquired politely.

"I spoke to Ari last night, around 7:00."

"That's pretty recently," I replied. "What makes you think he's missing or in trouble?"

"I know my brother," she replied curtly, "if we do not meet for breakfast we speak on the phone every morning. He did not meet me at the restaurant and I am unable to reach him by telephone."

"Have you tried going to his apartment?"

Ziva nodded. "I did, he was not there."

I straightened up, trying to think of a nice way to tell this beautiful woman that she shouldn't worry her pretty little head over something like this. Something told me that she wouldn't take that advice kindly, though, so I thought of something more diplomatic to say.

"I gotta tell you, Miss David," I said, shaking my head, "I think it's too soon to think that something has happened to your brother, but…" I continued, cutting her off, "I'll do some checking to see if I can find any information that will soothe your worries."

"What are your rates?" she asked, pulling an envelope out of her stylish clutch purse.

"100 a day plus expenses," I replied, holding back a smile as her head jerked up in surprise.

"So much?" she said. "I hope you are worth that amount."

"Oh, believe me," I said, grinning, "I'm worth it."

Pulling some bills out of the envelope, she rose and extended them to me. "This should take care of your fees and expenses for a week," she said. "I hope I will not be in need of your services for much longer."

Taking the money, I smiled at her, "Thank you. I'll need personal information on your brother, and a picture, if you have one."

She pulled another envelope out of her purse and handed it to me. "Everything you need to know is in there," she said, turning to leave. "My contact information is there as well. I hope to hear from you soon." She strode out of the office without a backward glance.

Abby poked her head in my office. "So, do you have a new client or a new girlfriend?" she asked.

"Client," I said, waving the money. "You're actually going to get paid this week."

Abby ran in and threw her arms around me, knocking me backward against a bookcase. "That's so great, Tony," she squealed. "We get to play detective for a little while longer."

"Hey," I protested, "I don't play detective, I am one."

"I know," she said earnestly, loosening her death grip and backing up. "But it takes clients and cases to make a detective, at least a working one. And now we have one. Or two. We have both, but the client is related to the case, so we just have one."

"Not that I don't think you can handle more than one," she said quickly. "You're a smart guy, not to mention drop-dead gorgeous." She snorted as I preened, smacking me on the arm. "Go on, start detecting," she admonished, pushing me out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Metro Police Headquarters is a dirty, noisy building. I had to sit in the lobby until the Chief of Police could see me. I spent the time looking over the information Miss David had given me. It wasn't much. She and her brother must have different fathers, as his name was Ari Haswari. Definitely exotic, but I couldn't figure out what nationality they were. Haswari lived in a small apartment in a nicer neighborhood than mine. He worked at a factory assembling sewing machines. Apparently he had only arrived in the States six months ago. I pulled out the picture and studied the face staring back at me. He wasn't bad looking, a bit hard and cold with a slight smirk teasing the corners of his mouth. His eyes were like Ziva's – dark, with long lashes; but while her eyes sparkled with life, his were cold and dead. Yeah, this guy has probably seen some rough times, or he's caused them.

After about an hour of cooling my heels, I was shown in to the Chief's office.

"Hey, Chief," I said jauntily, sitting down in a chair facing his desk. "How's the police work?"

First of all, let me tell you about the man I'm about to ask for help. Chief of Police Leroy Jethro Gibbs is not a man to be messed with. He's a hard-core ex-Marine who landed on the beach in Normandy and helped liberate Paris. After Hitler ate his gun and the Nazis were caught or ran off, Gibbs signed up for another tour and went to the Pacific Theater to fight the Japs. By the time he got there, though, the war with Japan was almost over. He joined the battle in Okinawa, which only lasted a little over a month. Then they dropped the big ones on Hiroshima and Nagasaki and that was it for that small island nation.

Gibbs came home to the States with a few battle wounds and a chest full of medals. He'd been a cop before the war, a well-regarded Captain, and when he returned to the force they made him Chief. He's a tough, but fair boss. He makes you think and work for your paycheck, and he believes in justice and protecting the innocent as if he was one of those superheroes in the comic books. His men all love him, but they'd never tell him that – he'd probably shoot them.

Before the war, I was one of those men, all shiny and fresh out of the academy, eager to serve under the famous Captain Gibbs. For some reason Gibbs saw a cop underneath the cocky bravado, and he took me under his wing. It was something I hadn't experienced before, someone actually caring about me and wanting me to be my best. I guess I was like a puppy, eager for approval and lapping up everything he taught me. When they bombed Pearl Harbor and we went to war, Gibbs joined the Marines and I joined the Navy. I didn't want to look like I was tagging on his heels. I saw a lot of action – lots of action, which is why I'm not a cop anymore. I caught some shrapnel when a Jap kamikaze pilot rammed his plane into our ship. Messed me up enough to put me in the hospital for six months. I'm not complaining, though. At least I'm alive and have all my limbs. I can tell you when a storm is coming and sometimes I can pick up radio signals, if I turn just the right way. Gibbs is the one who suggested I become a private dick. He said that he didn't want all his hard work training me go to waste, so I better get my shrapnel-riddled ass out there and put it to use.

"What brings your ugly mug to my station?" Gibbs growled, glaring at me over his reading glasses.

"A new case I've got," I replied, picking up a baseball from his desk and tossing it.

He grabbed the ball from me in midair and slammed it down, causing papers to fly. He's still got it; I didn't even see him get out of his chair and come around the desk.

"Pretty fast for an old, broken-down Marine," I said, leaning away from him warily.

Gibbs snorted. "This broken down Marine could take you down in two seconds," he retorted. He grinned and clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You look good, Tony," he said. "Business picking up?"

"One case at a time, Chief," I grinned, "one case at a time. And it'd take at least five seconds."

"What can I do for you?" Gibbs asked, returning to his seat. He leaned back and grinned at me.

"Got a strange one, Chief," I started. "Gorgeous broad wants me to find her brother, but he's only been 'missing' for less than a day. She thinks something terrible happened to him and says you guys won't help because it's too early."

"Name?"

"Her name is Ziva David, brother's Ari Haswari," I replied. "I can't figure out where they're from."

Gibbs nodded. "I know who you're talking about. The woman came in this morning claiming something had happened to her brother. The desk sergeant turned her over to one of our new detectives, Tim McGee. She must be a very forceful lady, McGee was speechless after she got through with him." He leaned forward and hit a button on his intercom. "Jackson, get McGee in here." A tinny "right away, sir," filtered out of the box.

Gibbs leaned back in his chair again and looked me over. "So, how've you been, Tony?" he asked. "Shannon's been asking about you. You should come over for dinner sometime."

"I'm good, Chief," I replied honestly. "Business is starting to pick up, the leg's getting stronger every day, I'm seeing a lady or two. Life's good. How does Saturday dinner sound?"

"How about tonight?"

I laughed. "You miss me that much? Sure, I don't think the case will heat up any time soon. I'll bring dessert."

Gibbs nodded. "Sounds good. Kelly's going to be excited to see you again."

"Ahhh," I grinned, "better watch it, Chief, we'll be married before you know it."

"Over my dead body," snorted Gibbs. "She's eight years old."

"Hey," I protested, "I can wait."

"Sure you can," he agreed, "but by the time she's old enough to marry you, you'll be old and broken down like her old man. Besides, you're more like a big brother."

The door opened and a young man walked in. He looked barely old enough to shave. "You wanted to see me, Chief?" he asked in a squeaky voice. Sheesh, the kid's voice had barely had time to change.

"Mr. DiNozzo was hired by Miss David to find her brother," Gibbs said. "What can you tell us about the case?"

"Well, sir," McGee stammered slightly, "I didn't think there was a case yet. I mean, Mr. Haswari hasn't been missing for the requisite forty eight hours and…"

"But you still did some checking," Gibbs interrupted, "right?"

McGee looked down at his shoes. "Yes, sir," he replied. "I know I wasn't supposed to…"

"What did you find out?" Gibbs cut the young man off.

"Mr. Haswari didn't show up for work today," McGee reported. "He didn't call in sick either. The floor supervisor said that's not like him, he's never missed a day since he started working there six months ago."

"Anything else?" I asked.

McGee nodded. "I talked to the man who works the station next to Haswari's. He said the guy keeps to himself mostly. He's friendly enough, but doesn't talk a lot about himself. He did say something about meeting a woman and starting to date her."

"Did you get a name?"

McGee pulled a notebook out of his pocket and flipped through the pages. "Um, let's see… yes, he's seeing a woman named Caitlyn Todd."

"Caitlyn Todd, the daughter of Senator Russell Todd?" Gibbs asked. McGee checked his notebook and nodded.

"Guy's got good taste in women," I commented. "I wonder how they met; it doesn't sound like they'd travel in the same social circles."

"That's what you need to find out, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "Need any help? You can take McGee with you; his badge'll get you into places you might not be able to get into yourself."

"You'd lend me a guy?" I asked in surprise. "And he'll take orders from me?"

"But you're not a …" McGee started.

"He'll do what you tell him to do," Gibbs said firmly. He turned to the younger man. "You watch this guy, you could learn from him."

"This will be fun, kid," I said, putting my arm around McGee's shoulders. "It'll be like a field exercise."

"I expect him back here with minimal damage, DiNozzo," Gibbs warned.

"Minimal damage?" McGee squeaked as I led him out of Gibbs' office.

"No problem, Chief," I called back, "You'll hardly notice a difference, except for the increase in investigative skills." The door to the office slammed in reply.

"He's crazy about me," I said to McGee. "I'm like a son to him." The kid had the good sense not to answer.


	3. Chapter 3

"Honey, I'm back," I strolled into the office. "Look what followed me home. Can we keep him?" McGee followed me into the office, looking around curiously. He stopped when he saw Abby, his eyes growing wide.

"Hey there," Abby said, rushing over to greet the new visitor. She drew McGee into a hug. "All stray pets get a welcome hug," she said, squeezing tightly.

"Don't break him, Abs," I warned. "We're only borrowing him from Gibbs. Detective Timothy McGee, meet my Gal Friday, Miss Abigail Sciuto."

Abby frowned. "No one calls me Abigail," she hissed. She pointed at McGee, "You, may call me Abby or if I really like you, Abs. Got that?" McGee nodded quickly. "And I shall call you whatever I want," she continued.

"Better listen to her," I whispered to McGee. "She runs this office."

"Abs," I said cheerfully, "we're going to check out Haswari's apartment. Do you think you could find out where a Miss Caitlyn Todd is today?"

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Abby asked.

"She's Senator Russell Todd's daughter so…"

"… she could be listed in the social pages," Abby finished. "Good idea, Boss. I guess that's why you get the big bucks. And the bruises."

"Bruises?" McGee looked up curiously.

Abby nodded. "Oh, yeah," she said seriously, "Tony is always getting into some kind of trouble. He gets beat up. A lot. Do you carry a gun?"

McGee nodded, pushing his jacket aside to show his sidearm.

"Good," Abby said approvingly. "You can shoot the guys who try to kill Tony."

"You think there'll be shooting?" McGee asked nervously.

"How long have you been a cop?" I asked.

"This is my second month," he admitted.

"Second month?" I couldn't believe it. "How did you make detective right away?"

"It's a new program," he replied, "hiring people straight out of college and putting them into management, or investigative roles."

I shook my head. "Whatever happened to working your way up the ranks? Getting your hands dirty? You can't learn about reading a suspect in a classroom. You have to get out there, get in among them, roll around in the mud. Nothing beats experience on the streets."

"Maybe that's why Gibbs sent him with you," Abby suggested. "To show him the ropes. You may not work for him anymore, but you're still the one he trusts the most."

I ducked my head to hide the pleased smile. Of course, she was probably right. Gibbs could be rough on me, but he's always trusted me completely. He never doubted me or my abilities. I owe most of my confidence to him. Oh sure, I swaggered and bragged and acted like a hotshot before I met him, but it was really just an act to hide how inferior I felt. That's what a life of never living up to expectations will do to a guy. Until I met Gibbs I thought I was destined to be a wino on the streets, begging for change to buy my next bottle of muscatel. Gibbs showed me I was smart, observant and could charm the pants off anyone, including wary suspects. He made me believe in myself, and for that, I'd do anything for him.

"Come on, kid," I said gruffly. "Let's go check out this guy's apartment. He's probably back, sleeping off an all-night bender."

oOoOoOo

Haswari lived in a neighborhood that had been fixed up for returning war veterans. There were small bungalows and three and six-flat apartment buildings. How a relative newcomer to the country managed to get a place in that area was another mystery that needed to be solved. There were two-year-long waiting lists for the apartments, three-year lists for the houses. No one owned what they lived in, they rented from Quartermaine Development Corporation, who built all the buildings on a two-acre parcel of land. The homes were clean and well maintained, and by all accounts the Quartermaine people were good folks, fair and responsive landlords.

McGee and I walked up the steps to 900 Briar Lane, a cream-colored three-flat with flower boxes on the windows of the first floor apartment. Haswari lived on the third floor, supposedly alone. We climbed the stairs, stepping over toys and carriages belonging to the other residents. When we didn't get a response to our knocks, I used the key that Miss David had given me to let us in.

"I don't know if we can do this," McGee said warily, hovering on the landing outside the door. "We haven't received permission to enter."

"His sister gave us permission," I replied, looking around the spartan living room.

"She doesn't live here, though," McGee argued. "She doesn't have the right to…"

"McGee," I hissed, "get in here before the neighbors hear you and come up to see what's going on."

McGee reluctantly entered the apartment, closing the door behind him. "Not much furniture," he observed, wandering around the living room.

"No," I agreed, "not much of anything. No lamps, no pictures on the walls, no carpets. It's almost like he just set up camp in an empty apartment and didn't bother to furnish it."

McGee had wandered into the bedroom. "There's not much here either, just a mattress on the floor and a pillow and a blanket."

I went into the kitchen and started rummaging through the cabinets. There was nothing to rummage through, except for a few plates, bowls and glasses and some silverware in a drawer. The refrigerator was just as bereft, a half-empty carton of milk and two lonely eggs being its only occupants. This was weird.

"Did you find anything, Mr. DiNozzo?" McGee asked, right behind me, making me jump.

"Damn, McGee," I admonished, "don't sneak up on me like that. And call me Tony. Mr. DiNozzo is my father and I don't have much respect for that title."

"Sorry, Tony." McGee looked abashed. "Haswari's been living here since he came to this country six months ago," he said. "Why does it look like he's just passing through?"

"Maybe he wanted to make a quick exit," I said, thoughtfully. "Not tie himself down with possessions."

"But why?"

"That, my young friend, is what we are going to find out."

McGee and I spent the next few hours talking to the neighbors, asking them what they knew about their neighbor on the top floor. There wasn't much to learn; Haswari had been friendly but had little meaningful interaction with the families in the other two apartments. He seemed to like children, stopping to play with the kids on the front lawn, teaching them to kick a ball around. He'd help the mothers carry their groceries, if he was around. They all thought he was a perfect gentleman. No one had noticed if he had any visitors and there was never any noise coming from his apartment. It was almost as if he was never there.

oOoOoOo

We went to my favorite diner to grab a late lunch and call in to Abby. While McGee carefully examined the menu, I called the office.

"DiNozzo Investigations, how may we help you?" chirped Abby.

"Hey, Doll," I leered into the phone. "What's the word?"

"The word is the Mayfield Regatta," Abby replied. "Okay, that's two words, but you know what I mean."

"Miss Todd's there?"

I could almost hear Abby nodding. "She's the guest of honor at the Regatta. She starts the race and then awards the winner some sort of trophy. All very chichi. Good thing you've got your good suit on, you won't stand out in that fancy crowd."

"I'm wearing my only suit, Abby," I reminded her.

"Right," she agreed, "so it's your best suit."

I shook my head. "Thanks, Abs, I'll talk to you later."

I sat down at the table just as Lucy, my favorite waitress came to take our order.

"I'll have the meatloaf and mashed potatoes," McGee ordered.

"The usual, handsome?" Lucy smiled at me. "Hot turkey sandwich?"

"You know me so well, Lucy," I replied, holding my hand over my heart. "I'm touched."

"One meatloaf with mashed and one hot turkey sandwich," Lucy confirmed, writing the order down. "Coffee?"

"You bet," I replied.

"Do you have chocolate milk?" McGee asked. I stared at him, amazed.

"We're all out, sweetheart," Lucy shook her head. "We only have the white stuff."

"Okay," McGee sighed, "I'll take a glass of milk, please."

"Be back in a flash, boys."

"How old are you, McGee?" I asked.

"I'll be 24 this month," McGee replied. "Why?"

"Milk?"

"I like milk," he said, defensively.

"Right," I replied. "Let's throw some ideas around about this Haswari guy, see if we can figure out who he is and what he's up to."

"Don't we already know who he is?" McGee looked puzzled. "And aren't we just supposed to find him?"

"That's the main case," I agreed, "but there's something else going on, I have a funny feeling about this guy."

We tossed around some ideas while we ate our lunch. Lucky's is one of the best diners around, the food is good and cheap, the service is friendly and the booths are high enough to give a person privacy if they want to talk quietly. Eventually we stopped trying to work out the puzzle and enjoyed our food, making small talk. It turned out that McGee was some sort of boy genius, graduating from some fancy university in Boston. He wasn't actually bad to talk to, once he got over his nerves. The kid just needed some toughening up and some more experience on the streets. A case like this would be good for him, it didn't seem to be dangerous, but it had enough twists and turns to get his brain working.

I paid the check and left Lucy a generous tip and McGee and I headed for the Mayfield Regatta.


	4. Chapter 4

The weather had cleared up and the Regatta was already in full swing, with the boats having taken off earlier that morning despite the rain. There were various groups of people scattered around the grounds of the yacht club, sipping champagne and nibbling on those tiny sandwiches they pass out at fancy shindigs. I snagged a glass from a passing waiter and looked around for our reason for being there. After about a minute, I spotted her.

Miss Caitlyn Todd was standing in the middle of a group of admirers, chatting happily and reveling in the attention. I took a moment to look her over. She was petite, about a foot shorter than me, with brown hair that caught the sunlight and showed a hint of red. She wore her hair tied back with a yellow ribbon that matched the tasteful dress she wore. Her build was slender, a bit too thin for my taste, and she had an air of confidence about her. I approached the knot of people.

"Excuse me, Miss Todd?" I interrupted. She stopped talking and looked up at me, her head tilted curiously.

"Yes?" she replied.

"Anthony DiNozzo," I said. "I wonder if I might have a word with you about a mutual acquaintance?"

"And who might that be?"

"Ari Haswari."

I saw a flush creep across her face and she looked at the other people quickly. Excusing herself, she took my arm and pulled me to the side. McGee trailed along, uncertain of what to do.

"Who are you, exactly?" she whispered.

"I'm a private investigator," I whispered back, "hired by Mr. Haswari's sister to find him."

"Private investigator?" She wrinkled her nose disdainfully. "I would appreciate it if you'd keep your voice down, Mr…."

"DiNozzo."

She nodded briefly. "DiNozzo. My acquaintance with Mr. Haswari is not something I make public knowledge."

"And why is that?" I asked.

"It's complicated," she said, waving her hand, "you wouldn't understand."

I bristled at the presumption that my pea brain couldn't comprehend something that was probably a matter of Daddy not approving of her choice of male friends.

I flashed my most charming smile. "Try me."

She sighed impatiently and pulled me into a quiet spot away from the crowds. Noticing McGee, she looked at me questioningly.

"That's Tim," I explained. "He's my apprentice." I glared at McGee to keep him from saying anything.

"Oh." I could see she had already dismissed McGee as someone of no consequence, and that sent my annoyance level up another notch. It always bothers me when people make snap judgments about others based solely on a title or appearance. It could be because I've always been taken for one type of person and that first impression could never be shaken; no one ever bothered to look below the surface. Miss Todd had already made her decision on who I was and my intelligence, or lack thereof, the minute she heard I was a private investigator.

"Why is Ari's sister looking for him?" Miss Todd asked.

"She hasn't heard from him," I replied, "and she's concerned that something has happened."

"I don't know how I can help you, Mr. DiNozzo," she replied, confused.

"When was the last time you saw him, Miss Todd?" I asked.

"Yesterday," she replied. "We had a late dinner at La Questa. We left the restaurant at 10:30."

"Where did you go from there?"

"It was late," she replied haughtily. "I had a long day coming up, so I went home."

"You live alone, right?" I asked, "Did Mr. Haswari go home with you?"

She bristled. "I don't think I care for your implication, Mr. DiNozzo."

I held up a hand. "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to figure out what type of relationship the two of you have. You have to admit, a Senator's daughter and a recent, poor immigrant, don't exactly seem like a typical couple."

"Our relationship is none of your business," she huffed. "I would appreciate it if you didn't spread around rumors about me or my liaisons."

"Liaisons?" I repeated, surprised. "Interesting. He's not just an acquaintance, then?"

"What exactly do you want from me, Mr. DiNozzo?" Miss Todd demanded. "You want me to admit that I'm seeing a man beneath my station? That I'm sneaking around with him behind my father's back because my father would have a fit if he knew that I was seeing a foreigner? Okay, I'll admit it. I'm sleeping with a man whose background is a mystery to me. I didn't even know he had a sister in the country."

"How did the two of you meet?" I asked. "I can't imagine you have the same friends or go to the same functions."

Miss Todd smirked. "You don't have a very good imagination, then. We met at the Clevenger Ball. Ari was a valet; he parked my escort's car."

"And while he was parking the car he managed to attract your attention?"

Her eyes closed as she remembered the evening. "Ari is a very striking man. He's different from every other man I've dated or my father has pushed at me. He's intelligent and cultured, speaks perfect English and has the most charming smile. We had a chance to chat when my escort had to go back into the reception hall to retrieve his topcoat."

"And in those few minutes of chatting he managed to charm you into going out with him?" I replied, doubtfully.

"It wasn't quite like that," Miss Todd corrected. "He asked me if I enjoyed fine art and asked if I would accompany him to the Fremont Art Museum to view the exhibits."

"And you went," I added, "with a perfect stranger."

"It's a public place," she replied defensively. "There was no danger. We had a lovely time; he's very well read on Renaissance art."

I nodded understandingly. "So then things developed from there, and eventually the two of you were involved a bit more seriously. How long has this been going on?"

"Four months," she said. "We met the week after he arrived in the country."

"Haswari has been in the country for six months," McGee corrected.

Miss Todd shook her head. "That can't be right. He told me he had just arrived and how lucky he was to meet a kindred spirit his first week in his new home."

McGee started to argue, but I waved him off. "We must be confused on our facts, Miss Todd," I said glibly. "That's why I'm glad we had this opportunity to speak. If you hear from Mr. Haswari could you please contact me?" I handed her my business card. "His sister is quite anxious to hear from him."

"I could just tell him to call his sister," she replied.

"But then I wouldn't know and would keep pounding the pavement to find him," I said. "Clients can forget to tell me things."

She shrugged and put my card in her purse. "I'll let you know if I hear from Ari," she said, walking off. "Please keep what I told you to yourself. I don't want my father to find out about us."

Walking back to my car I mulled over what we had learned. Frankly, it wasn't much. A social debutante was slumming behind her father's back with a man who lied to her about how long he'd been in the country. For what purpose, though? What difference did it make if he had been here two months longer than he told her? Was their meeting accidental? Did it take him two months to set things up to put him in a position to meet her? How would he know she would be interested in him at all?

"This whole thing is clear as mud," I muttered aloud.

"It is confusing," McGee nodded in agreement. "I could check further into Haswari, find out exactly when he arrived in the U.S. and from which country he traveled..."

"Good idea, McGee," I said jovially, slapping him on the back. "I'll drop you off at the station and you can do your thing."

oOoOoOo

When I got back to the office Abby was packing up to leave.

"Did you meet the deb?" she asked.

I nodded. "She didn't have any useful information, though. She and Haswari are making whoopie behind her influential daddy's back."

"Not literally, I assume," Abby replied, grinning saucily.

I pulled one of her pigtails. "Brat. The thing is, Haswari lied about how long he's been in the country. I'm trying to figure out a reason why he'd want to do a thing like that, but I'm drawing a complete blank."

"Maybe he wanted time to learn English," Abby suggested.

"According to Miss Todd and the neighbors, he spoke very good English," I replied, shaking my head. "He had to have known the language before he got here."

Abby shrugged. "Then I have no idea," she said. "You need anything tonight, Boss? I was just about to leave. It's bowling league night, you know." She held up her bowling ball bag.

"You go ahead." I waved her out. "I'll just try to think this through before I go to Gibbs' for dinner."

"Ooo," Abby squealed. "Say hi to Shannon and Kelly for me."

"Will do." I kissed her on the forehead and pushed her toward the door. "Go get 'em, Tiger."

I sat in my office going over my notes, but nothing stood out. I tossed them aside in frustration just as the phone rang. It was McGee.

"Timothy," I said, jovially, leaning back in my chair. "Please tell me you found out that Haswari is a Nazi storm trooper hiding in the US and planning a resurrection of Der Fuhrer."

"Um, no." McGee's confusion was practically oozing over the phone line. "But I did find out some interesting information about him and Miss David, actually, her family."

"Yeah?" I sat up. "Spill the beans."

"Haswari was born in Algeria, his mother was a nurse at a local hospital. It seems Mr. David made frequent business trips to Algeria and had a relationship with Amira Haswari, producing Ari. He sent money on a regular basis, but never claimed the child as his own."

"Nice guy," I observed. "In an adulterous kind of way."

"I guess life was difficult for Haswari and his mother," McGee continued. "Single mothers who aren't widowed aren't accepted in their religion, but they managed to make a decent life. Amira Haswari was killed in Algiers when the British destroyers attempted to deliver a party of US Rangers directly onto the docks to prevent the French from destroying port facilities. The details about her death are sketchy; I can't find a reason why she would be on the docks at that time."

"Maybe she was going to see if she could help any wounded," I suggested. "She was a nurse, after all."

There was a pause, then a slightly chastened McGee said, "You're right, Tony. I should have thought of that."

"That's okay, kid," I replied. "You're still learning. Go on, what else have you got?"

"I don't know what Haswari was doing from the time of his mother's death to the time of his immigration to the US," McGee continued. "There are no records of employment, no police records; actually, there are no education or employment records at all."

"None?" I repeated. "Maybe his mother couldn't get him accepted at any schools so she taught him herself; but Miss Todd said he was very knowledgeable in art and the neighbors seemed to believe he was well-bred or educated."

"Maybe Mr. David made sure he got a decent education," McGee suggested, "Details on his life are lacking, to say the least. In any case, David was listed as his sponsor when he immigrated to this country six months ago."

"That's good, McGee," I said. "You're good at this research thing, aren't you?"

"I love going through records and logs," McGee said. "I'm putting together a family tree for my parents' 30th anniversary. It's fascinating work, going through records that are over a hundred years old."

"That sounds interesting, McGee," I interrupted, "and I'd love to hear all about it, but I've gotta get out of here soon. What can you tell me about the Davids?"

"Right." McGee cleared his throat. "Chayim David is a very influential businessman and an influential voice in the Jewish community. He's one of the people advising the Anglo-American Committee of Inquiry."

"Impressive."

"He's also working with other members of the Jewish community to reclaim property that was confiscated by the Nazis when they shipped the Jews to the death camps. Their goal is to determine the owners, and if they're still alive, return the property to them. If there are no survivors at all, including heirs, the property will be shipped to Palestine and kept in a museum to honor the memory of those who died."

"What kind of property are we talking about?" I asked.

"All kinds," McGee replied. "Watches, jewelry, silver flatware, fine china, paintings, sculptures; they're receiving a shipment that they found in a wine cellar in a manor house just outside of Dusseldorf. It's supposed to be worth at least one million dollars."

I whistled. "That's a lot of money," I said. "What about the daughter? Anything on her?"

"Apparently, she's her father's right hand man," McGee replied, "er, woman. She handles the details of his life, scheduling his appointments, setting up meetings, helping Jews immigrate to the US. She's been in the US since she was a child and went to school at Vassar."

"Beautiful and smart," I mused. "I like that. Is that it, McGee?"

"That's all, Tony."

"That was great work, buddy," I said. "I can't believe you got all that information in such a short time. You must be some sort of whiz kid."

"Well," McGee replied, "um, thanks. I do try."

"You do more than try," I corrected. "You achieve results. Thanks, kid, you've been a big help."

I could almost hear McGee straighten up and preen. "Thank you, Tony. I hope I can do more to help you with this case."

"Count on it," I replied. "Sorry to cut you off, but I need to make a call before I leave the office. Gotta update the client. Bye."

I pulled out the sheet of paper with Ziva David's contact information. She didn't give me an address, just a phone number. If I wanted to see her I could find out where she lived, but for now, I just wanted to give her a quick update and head off for dinner.

She answered on the third ring.

"Miss David," I used my professional, talking-to-the-client, voice. "It's Anthony DiNozzo. I just wanted to bring you up to date on my investigation."

"Did you find my brother?" she asked.

"No," I replied, "I'm sorry, I did not. I checked out his apartment and there's no sign that he's been there recently. And I spoke to his girlfriend, but she hasn't seen or heard from him recently."

"Girlfriend?"

"Yes," I confirmed, "you didn't know?

"No," Miss David said firmly. "I was unaware that he was seeing anyone. He never said anything. How long has he had this girlfriend?"

"It's been four months," I replied. "He never mentioned a Caitlyn Todd?"

There was a pause and a slight intake of breath. "No," her voice was calm. "I am not familiar with that name."

I knew she was lying, but decided not to press. I'd have to see if there was more I could dig up before I confronted her with any lies.

"Miss David," I said, "I know your brother is new to this country. Had you ever met him before he arrived?"

"Do you mean was I aware my father had an illegitimate child in another country?" she replied wryly. "No, I was not. I first heard about Ari when he contacted my father almost a year ago, asking if he would help him immigrate to the US."

"You must have become close, though," I observed, "having breakfast and talking to him every day."

She paused again. "Yes," she said curtly, "we became good friends. It was not his fault my father was unfaithful to my mother. I found him charming and intelligent, a wonderful conversationalist."

"I see," I nodded, "that's good."

"Is there anything else, Mr. DiNozzo?" she asked abruptly. "I have a dinner engagement that I must get to."

"No," I replied. "That's all for now. Have a good evening, Miss David."

"Thank you," she said, "and the same to you." The connection was cut off abruptly.

I sat back in my chair, contemplating the brief conversation. There was more to this case than a missing brother. I just needed to figure out what else was going on.

"Better get moving, Anthony," I said out loud. "Shannon will have your head if you're late for dinner." I turned off my desk lamp, grabbed my hat and topcoat and headed out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

The Gibbs family lived in a quiet suburb north of the city. The neighborhood was filled with children running around, riding bikes or playing stickball in the streets. On hot summer days, someone would open a fire hydrant and the kids, and less dignified adults, would run through the spray of water. Everyone knew everyone – you couldn't walk down the street without a neighbor calling out a hello and asking you about your family. If your kid did something bad and another adult witnessed it, it was as bad as if you had caught them in the act. No one got away with anything around there.

Gibbs was well-respected in the neighborhood, and his wife Shannon was well-loved. Shannon Gibbs was always the first to arrive with a casserole or homemade soup when there was an illness in the family. She and Jethro Gibbs were devoted parents to their only child, Kelly Marie. Kelly was a tomboy and a princess rolled into one. She was the best tree-climber in the neighborhood and had the most vivid imagination, dressing up in costumes and creating imaginary worlds for her friends to play in. The kids were a tight bunch, running around like a well-mannered gang.

As the sun was setting, I drove carefully through the streets. There weren't any children outside, they had all gone in when the street lights turned on, but you never know if a tardy child would dart across the street. I made it to the house without hitting any stray kids, cats or dogs.

The front door opened as I was approaching and a little blonde tornado tore down the walk and slammed into me.

"Tony!" Kelly yelled, throwing her arms around my legs and hugging me. Holding the dessert in one hand and trying to keep my balance, I patted her head and grinned at the sweet face beaming up at me.

"Hey, kiddo," I said. "Watch it, I'll drop the pie and your mom will send me to bed without dinner."

"She wouldn't do that, Tony," Kelly replied. "She likes you too much."

"Kelly," Shannon called out from the doorway, "let go of Tony, you know he's got a sore leg."

Chagrinned, Kelly jumped back. "I'm sorry, Tony, I forgot." She looked like she was about to cry. The kid's sensitive, bursts into tears if she steps on an ant.

"It's okay, kid. Look, no damage." I danced a little jig to reassure her, making her giggle. She took my free hand and skipped up the walk with me.

Shannon Gibbs stood holding the front door for me, a bright smile on her beautiful face. "I'm so glad you finally took the time to come visit us, Tony," she said, kissing me on the cheek. "It's been way too long."

"I know," I replied regretfully, "things have been crazy lately. Besides, I didn't want Gibbs thinking I was trying to steal you and Kelly away from him." I winked at her and immediately felt the smack to the back of my head.

"Hey, Gibbs," I said, rubbing my head. "Didn't see you there."

"Mmm hmmm." Gibbs looked amused.

"Here," I handed Shannon the box I was carrying, "fresh baked apple pie from Shanahan's."

"Our favorite," exclaimed Shannon. She gave me another kiss on the cheek. "Come on, Kelly, let's finish dinner while Daddy and Tony talk."

"I wanna stay with Tony," Kelly whined.

"No, you're going to help me with the salad and then you're going to set the table," Shannon said firmly.

Kelly started to argue but her father spoke up. "Listen to your mother, Kelly," he said. "You can talk to Tony during dinner and if you're very good, he might let you play him a song on the piano after dessert."

"I'd love that, Kelly," I said.

"Okay," Kelly said sullenly, dragging her feet into the kitchen.

"Hey," Gibbs called out, "where's my smile?"

Kelly turned around and flashed her father a toothy grin.

"That's my girl," he chuckled.

"Come on," he said, indicating a doorway, "we'll talk downstairs." Tossing my coat and hat onto the hall table, I followed him down the stairs.

Gibbs' basement was a wonderland of wood. Gibbs could be considered a master craftsman, if he ever bothered to join some sort of guild. He could fashion anything out of wood, but he spent most of his time working on the house. When they bought the house, he replaced the rickety, painted banister with a solid mahogany, hand-carved banister. The window sashes were all re-hung and stained a deep rich brown. Most of the furniture was made by him, the large master bed being his masterpiece.

Half the floor of the basement was taken up by his latest project, something I couldn't identify.

"What's that?"

"Shannon saw some hutch in a furniture store and decided she had to have one in her dining room," Gibbs explained. "I went to the store and took measurements, bought the lumber and here we are."

"They let you take measurements?" I asked incredulously. "Oh wait, what am I saying? I wouldn't try to stop you, much less some puny salesman."

"Here," Gibbs chuckled and tossed me a block of wood with sandpaper on it. "Make yourself useful."

I caught the block handily and grinned. "Gotta earn my dinner," I said. "Tell me where to sand."

Gibbs pointed to the frame of the behemoth he was building and picked up a sander himself.

"How's the case going?" he asked casually.

"It's interesting," I replied, "a whole lot more interesting than I expected."

"Oh?" Gibbs looked up from his sanding. "How so?"

"For starters," I replied, "Haswari lied to Caitlyn Todd about how long he's been in the country. He never told her about his family and he never told his sister about her. I got the feeling sister knew who she was, though, but said she'd never heard of Caitlyn."

"What makes you think that?"

"The way she reacted on the phone when I told her Haswari was seeing a woman named Caitlyn Todd." I shrugged. "The pause was telling."

"You think Haswari targeted Todd?" Gibbs asked.

I shrugged again. "Maybe," I replied. "I don't know why, but if he did, I'll find the reason."

Gibbs nodded. "I know you will. What else?"

"Some interesting things about the Davids," I replied. "They're pretty powerful and involved in some very high level stuff."

"Government high level?" Gibbs asked. "Think it could have something to do with Senator Todd?"

"It could," I replied. "I need to find out if the Senator is working on any special projects. McGee could probably get that for me. He's a smart kid, Chief. Got me information on Haswari and his mother and the Davids in record time."

Gibbs smiled. "He's a good officer," he agreed. "I'm not sure if he's ever going to do well in the field. I have a feeling he'll be okay, but I'd be happier if I were the one to train him on the streets."

"Chiefs don't do that lowly stuff, Gibbs," I scolded. "I could help him get his feet wet, if you want. Don't worry, I won't let him get hurt."

"I know you won't," Gibbs replied. "I was hoping you'd say that. I knew you'd be a great instructor at the Academy. But I also knew not going out on the street would drive you nuts."

"You can't cage a DiNozzo, Chief," I replied.

"You sure can't," Gibbs agreed.

"Daddy," Kelly called down from the top of the stairs, "Mommy said for you and Tony to wash your hands and come upstairs to eat."

"Thank you, princess," Gibbs called up. "We'll be right there."

"It sounds like the case is coming along," he said, turning to me. I nodded and started to say something…

"Daddy," Kelly called again. "Mommy said now!"

"We're coming, Kelly," Gibbs called back, exasperated.

"No, you're not," she argued, "you're talking."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and we headed for the stairs. "We're talking and coming up," he said, stomping up the stairs. "See?"

Kelly covered her ears. "That's just rude, Daddy," she said reprovingly. I ducked my head to hide my smile, but still got a smack on the head.

Dinner at the Gibbs house is a loud, happy affair. Talk of business is not allowed and everyone has a chance to lead the conversation. Shannon served the food while Kelly tried to tell me about a field trip her class made to the Museum of Natural History. Her father kept interjecting a running commentary and asking silly questions until Kelly rolled her eyes and exclaimed, "Daddy," in an exasperated tone. Properly chastised, Gibbs allowed his little princess to describe the wonderful sights at the museum in remarkable detail.

After a delicious meal of pot roast, topped off with a slice of apple pie and coffee, we retreated to the sitting room where Kelly displayed her piano playing skills by picking out "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."

Eventually, I had to beg my leave. I got a hug and kiss from Shannon and Kelly and was made to promise to come back soon. Gibbs walked me to the car.

"Thanks, Chief," I said, sincerely, "I had a great time. I love coming here for dinner."

"You're always welcome, Tony," he said. "You know that."

We looked back toward the house. We could see Shannon and Kelly sitting at the piano and heard the soft sound of the music. It was a perfect setting. I looked over at Gibbs and caught a quick glimpse of total love in his eyes as he watched his girls. It's a look you don't see that often, and when I do, I'm honored that he would be so open around me.

I cleared my throat, breaking the spell.

"Let me know if I can help you," Gibbs said, as I got in my car. "Want me to send McGee to your office?"

"That would be great, Chief," I replied, starting the engine. "He's good to have around. See you later."

Gibbs slapped the roof of my car twice and I drove off, full of good food and happy memories.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thanks for all the kind reviews. It's good to see people still think I can write. After months of writer's block, I was beginning to wonder!

**Chapter 6**

When I walked in to the office the next morning McGee was already waiting for me. He was sitting and chatting with Abby, who was telling him about her theory on the existence of ghosts. By the skeptical look on his face, I don't think he agreed with her.

"Hey, McGee," I slapped him on the back, "you're here early."

"No," Abby corrected, "you're late."

"Late?" I exclaimed. "It's only, wow, is it 10:00 already?"

Abby nodded. "Did you meet some bimbo on the way home from Gibbs'?"

I wrinkled my nose in disdain. "No," I replied, "I must have lost track of time this morning. Ready to get to work, McGee?"

McGee picked up a portfolio from Abby's desk and stood. "Gibbs asked me to research Senator Todd's projects for you, so I looked through the Congressional Records and other sources to see if there was anything that might be remotely related to Haswari or the Davids."

"Anything?" I asked, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

"Oh yeah." I turned to see a sly grin on McGee's face.

"Yeah?" He nodded. "Spill the beans, kid." McGee followed me into my office, reading from his notes.

"Senator Todd has a large Jewish constituency," McGee explained. "He's been working very closely with Mr. David's organization on retrieving, cataloging and returning stolen property. His office is serving as the go-between for David's organization and the countries where the property is being held."

"Like a mediator?" I asked.

"More like a broker," McGee corrected. "He uses the diplomatic clout of his office to broker a deal with the current caretakers of the property. His office also serves as negotiator between the two parties, relaying offers and counteroffers."

"So, David's group has to buy the stuff," I realized, "the people holding the property don't just give it to them."

"Right," McGee confirmed. "David's organization gets donations and they use that money to help people come to this country and to buy back property."

"They must get some pretty big donations."

McGee nodded. "They do, but they don't pay the full amount for the property. They pay a portion of what the stuff is worth."

"That's why they need someone to negotiate," I added, "to haggle the price. What happens when they reach an agreement?"

"The money goes to Senator Todd's office and they take delivery of the property, inspect it to make sure it's all there, and hand over the money."

"So at the end of the deal, there could be millions of dollars or millions worth of property in Todd's possession," I conclude.

"That would be correct," McGee confirmed.

"Is there a deal being made now?"

"That's kept confidential," McGee replied. "No one knows when they're negotiating, or with whom."

"The Senator knows," I corrected, "and the Davids."

"And possibly the Senator's daughter," added McGee.

"Abby, do you have an address for Caitlyn Todd?" I called out to the outer office.

Abby poked her head in. "What's the magic word?"

"Please?"

She handed me a piece of paper. "Was that so hard?" she asked, flouncing back to her desk. I saw McGee looking between me and the door and shrugged sheepishly.

oOoOoOo

Caitlyn Todd lived in a fancy rowhouse in the middle of the swankiest neighborhood in the city. McGee and I found ourselves straightening our ties while we waited for an answer to the bell. The lady of the house herself answered the door.

"Miss Todd," I greeted her, "it's good to see you again. I wonder if I might take a minute of your time to ask you some more questions about Ari Haswari."

Caitlyn Todd looked me up and down, glanced over at McGee, and sighed. "I suppose," she said, reluctantly. She opened the door further to let us in. "The parlor is to the left."

The parlor was tastefully furnished in antiques and was spotless. We sat down on a chaise lounge that probably cost more than my car. Miss Todd sat down in a chair across from us.

"I'd offer you something to drink," she said, "but my maid has the day off and you said you'd only be a minute anyway."

I flashed her my most charming smile. "That's okay, Miss Todd," I said, "we'll only be a short while."

"I haven't heard from Ari," she said, "if that's what you're here to ask."

"That's good to know," I acknowledged, "but no, I'm here to ask you about your father's work with the David Consortium."

Miss Todd looked surprised. "The David Consortium? They're a very reputable group, they do some wonderful work with refugees and survivors of those awful concentration camps."

I nodded. "Yes, they do," I agreed. "And your father helps them do that good work, correct?"

She sat up straighter and smiled proudly. "Yes," she confirmed, "my father helps them smooth the waters for refugees wanting to come to this country."

"And he helps them retrieve stolen property, right?" I prompted.

Miss Todd's expression grew cooler. "How do you know about that?" she asked.

"It's a matter of public record, Miss Todd," McGee replied. "You just have to know where to look."

"There's nothing illegal in what they're doing," she responded angrily.

"We're not suggesting there is," I replied. "Regaining property that has been forcibly taken from its rightful owners in order to return it to them or their heirs is a worthy cause."

"Then why are you asking?"

"We'd like to know if there is a shipment of property on its way from Europe, or already here."

"That's confidential information," Miss Todd replied dismissively. "No one can know about the goods or the money, it's too dangerous."

"It is," I agreed amiably. "That information in the hands of the wrong person could prove disastrous. There are so many ways that it could be leaked accidentally, though. An accidental slip of the tongue, maybe while someone is still glowing from a pleasurable experience."

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say, Mr. DiNozzo?"

"I'm just suggesting that you might have let something slip without meaning to, in the aftermath of some intimate activities," I replied candidly.

"You think I told Ari about a shipment after we made love?" she said, her face turning red.

"I'm just suggesting that it's a possibility," I replied, "I'm not saying you purposely…"

"Get out," Miss Todd stood up angrily.

"Now Miss Todd…"

"I said get out," she growled. "Leave my house at once or I shall be forced to call the police."

"Actually, I'm a…" I elbowed McGee in the ribs.

"I'm sorry to have upset you, Miss Todd," I said, easing my way to the door. "It was truly not my intention."

McGee and I were abruptly shoved out the front door, which was promptly slammed in our faces.

"Well, that was fun," I observed.

"Not really," McGee replied.

"Did you see the look in her eyes?" I asked him.

"You mean the look that would have scorched the skin off our faces if she were shooting flames from her eyes?" McGee asked, "Yes, I saw that."

"No," I corrected, "the look before the 'I will gut you with my perfectly manicured nails' look. There was a moment of doubt, of fear. I think she told him something."

"That can't be good," McGee observed.

"No," I agreed. "Hey, kid, run down to the newsstand on the corner and grab me a paper, willya?" I handed him a nickel. "I'll meet you at the car."

Thoughts were whirling around in my head as I walked to my car. I dropped my keys and as I bent down to pick them up I was hit from behind. Stunned, I felt myself being dragged into the alleyway. Before I could regain my senses someone started kicking me, the heavy boots knocking the wind out of me and possibly breaking some ribs. I managed to get a glimpse of my assailant, but my vision was blurred, and all I could make out was a tall, thin man in dark clothing. One final kick sent me spiraling into the darkness.

The next thing I knew, McGee was shaking me and calling my name worriedly.

I groaned and opened my eyes. "Where am I?" I mumbled.

"In an alley behind Miss Todd's house," McGee replied. "Are you okay? Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

"Do I look okay, McGee?" I replied, holding out my hand. He stared at it dumbly. "Help me up," I exclaimed. I swayed once I was upright.

"Can you drive, kid?" I asked. I tossed him the keys at his nod. "Take me back to the office."

"Shouldn't you go to a hospital?" McGee asked, helping me into the car.

"No," I replied with exaggerated patience, "I should not go to the hospital. I should go to the office, where I will be taken care of."

"Is Abby a nurse?" he asked, pulling into the street carefully. I closed my eyes and ignored him. When we got to the office Abby jumped up from her desk and ran to help McGee get me to the sofa in my office.

"What happened?" she asked McGee accusingly. "You're supposed to shoot people before they beat him up."

"I wasn't there," McGee replied, backing away from her. "He sent me to the corner to get a newspaper." He held up the item as proof. "He wouldn't let me take him to the hospital," he added.

"Of course not," Abby scoffed. She went to the phone and dialed a number. "Hey Ducky, it's me, Abby. Fine, thanks, how are you? Oh yeah? That's good. Uh huh… hey, listen, can you grab your bag and come to the office? Tony's done it again. Yeah, he got himself beat up. Looks like he'll need some stitches, maybe have his ribs wrapped. Okay? Right, we'll see you then."

She hung up the phone. "Ducky's on his way," she announced.

"Ducky?" McGee looked confused.

"Doctor Donald Mallard," I offered, my eyes closed. "You should probably call him Doctor Mallard, he doesn't know you."

Twenty minutes later Ducky bustled into my office, followed by a tall, earnest looking young man.

Taking one look at me, Ducky clucked his tongue like a mother hen and started rummaging around in his bag.

"I swear, Anthony," he scolded, "one of these days you're going to get yourself into trouble you can't get out of. Look at you! You know you can't afford to re-injure your hip, young man."

I tried to smile at the man, but the bloody teeth probably didn't help my cause. Instead, I looked over at the young man with Ducky and raised an eyebrow.

Ducky turned to see what I was looking at. "I'm sorry," he said, "that was very rude of me. Let me introduce my grandson to you. Jimmy, this is Anthony DiNozzo, that's Miss Abby Sciuto, and I'm afraid I don't know who the other gentleman is."

"Timothy McGee," McGee supplied helpfully.

"Detective Timothy McGee," Abby corrected. "And thanks for not calling me Abigail."

"I know how you hate being called that, my dear." Ducky gave her a gentle smile.

"It's nice to meet all of you," Jimmy said.

"Jimmy has recently graduated from medical school and is going to eventually take over my practice," Ducky explained as he cleaned my wounds. "He's training with me, learning about my patients and their special quirks."

"Is refusing to go to the hospital a quirk, Ducky?" Abby asked.

"Indeed," Ducky confirmed, "but not the strangest. Yes, I remember one patient who had a strange proclivity for taking all his clothes off and dipping his…"

"Ducky," I interrupted, "nothing too serious, right?"

Ducky looked at me. "Well, it could be serious if the temperature were below freezing and his…"

"I mean me, Ducky." I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, of course," Ducky shook his head as he was pulled back into the here and now. "You don't appear to have any serious injuries, but you could have hidden internal bleeding. I want you to keep track of any new pains and do not ignore anything you may feel in your abdominal region."

"We'll keep an eye on him, Ducky," Abby promised. "Won't we, McGee?"

"Yes," McGee agreed, rubbing the spot Abby's elbow dug into. "We'll make sure he's okay."

I groaned as I sat up under the disapproving eye of Doctor Mallard.

"You should either go to hospital or go home and rest," Ducky said reprovingly. "But I know you won't."

"You're right, Ducky," I replied, "I'm not. I have to go see my client and find out what she knows about her brother. Come on, McGee." McGee followed me out, shooting confused looks at Abby and Ducky, who only shook their heads.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** This is it, the final chapter. Thanks to all who stuck with me, I'm glad you enjoyed the story!

**Chapter 7**

The offices of the David Consortium were fancy and cold, full of dark wood and tapestries. McGee and I sat in the lobby waiting for Miss David to come meet us. She was dressed in a black skirt with matching jacket with a crisp white blouse. Her hair was drawn back in the same style she wore when we first met. She entered the lobby and approached us.

"You look terrible," she said, giving me the once over. "What happened?"

"Someone took a dislike to my face," I replied glibly. "Either that, or they didn't like my talking to Caitlyn Todd."

"Come with me to the conference room," she said. Turning to McGee, she said, "We have not met. You are?"

"Detective Timothy McGee, ma'am," he replied politely.

"You brought the police in on this?" she turned to me in surprise.

"He's helping in an unofficial capacity," I replied. "He's not on duty." McGee smiled at her, looking every bit like a Boy Scout.

Miss David huffed, then led us into another room. I sat down gingerly in one of the chairs, happy to be off my feet.

"Why were you talking to Caitlyn Todd?" Miss David asked.

"You know her, don't you?" I replied.

She nodded. "I only met her once, very briefly. I was very surprised to hear that my brother is involved with her."

"Quite a coincidence, don't you think?" I said casually.

"I do not believe in coincidences," she replied.

"Funny," I said, "my old boss says the same thing."

"So does my boss," added McGee. "Oh," he said when he noticed my face. He sat back in his chair and tried to look inconspicuous.

"I will be honest with you, Mr. DiNozzo," Miss David said.

"I wish you would," I replied dryly.

"I was shocked and horrified when I found out that my father had a son by another woman. A son he secretly supported and educated. I disliked Ari the minute I met him. He's a cold man, Mr. DiNozzo, and I believe that he has a darkness to him that my father refuses to recognize."

"So you kept close tabs on him," I prompted.

Miss David nodded. "Ari is a charming man. He's a chameleon, able to assume any personality that will get him what he wants. I am a good actress and good poker player. I knew that making him believe I welcomed him into our family would lull him into a false sense of security."

"You never trusted him, though."

"No," she replied, "I knew he wanted something, but I didn't know what. My father has given him money and fancy gifts, but I could see the contempt for him in Ari's eyes. I was afraid that he would perhaps try to kill my father. But now I know that he's going to do far worse."

"What's worse than killing someone?" McGee asked.

"Shaming them," I replied. "For some people, losing their respect and dignity is worse than dying."

Miss David nodded.

"If Ari stole the money that your consortium collected, and possibly the property that you're recovering, your father loses face in the community."

"It would kill my father for that to happen," she said softly. "He lives for his people; to have them blame him for their further troubles, after all our people have been through…"

"Is there a shipment coming in soon?" I asked.

"It's already here," she said, looking at me. "I've taken precautions to protect the money, but the property is still at the loading dock."

"Let's go," I said, struggling to stand up.

"You are in no shape to go anywhere," Miss David exclaimed, coming to my side to help steady me.

"We need to stop your brother," I said firmly, removing her hand from my arm. "Do you have any security people to help us?"

Miss David shook her head. "We are a peaceful group. We have no need for guards."

"Who guards the money?" I asked.

"We have people watching it," she replied. "They're not trained fighters, but they'll defend it. This will all be over soon, though. The exchange is already scheduled to take place."

"Uh huh," I said doubtfully. I looked over at McGee, who nodded and left the room.

"When is the exchange supposed to happen?"

"Now."

I rolled my eyes. "Where?" I demanded.

"At the Rossmoor Warehouse on 51st and the waterfront."

Miss David followed me as I hobbled out of the conference room. "Rossmoor Warehouse, 51st and the waterfront," I yelled at McGee. He relayed the information, hung up the phone and hurried after us. Once outside, I pulled McGee away from the driver's side and pointed to the passenger seat. Miss David clambered into the back seat of the car and I floored the gas.

"Are any of the men accompanying the money carrying guns?" I asked as we barreled down the road.

"I told you," she huffed, getting thrown around in the back seat. "We are a peaceful people and there was no imminent threat to the money."

"What about your brother?" I yelled back over the roar of the engine. "You said you protected the money from him. How?"

"I changed the route to the exchange site."

"That's all?" I exclaimed, looking back and causing the car to swerve. McGee grabbbed the wheel in a panic.

"I thought that would be sufficient," she said defensively.

"What if he showed up at the actual exchange?" I asked.

"There will be many people there, he would not dare to show his face alone."

"He probably won't be alone, Miss David," I yelled, barely missing a tree as I swerved around the corner. "He's probably been planning this for a long time and has accomplices. He targeted Caitlyn Todd specifically, he had to have made other plans."

"My father will be there," she yelled, "and so will Senator Todd. They could be killed!"

"That's what we're trying to prevent," I yelled back, barreling down the pier toward the waterfront.

I pulled to a stop fifty yards away from the warehouse and we piled out of the car. McGee and I drew our guns and I motioned Miss David to stay behind us. Approaching the warehouse carefully, we could hear voices.

"I don't understand," a male voice said. "Why are you doing this?"

"That's my father," Ziva whispered.

"You never understood, Father," the last word was spit out contemptuously.

"That's gotta be Ari," I guessed.

We edged around the corner quietly, surveying the scene. Ari was standing with a shotgun pointed at an older, well-dressed gentleman. There was another man that I assumed was Senator Todd, from his age and clothing. Two other men stood off to the side. David, Todd and the two men all had their hands raised. Ari had two men with him, all armed with M-16s. They looked as if they had a lot of experience with those weapons; they were either ex-soldiers or mercenaries.

"Do you think you can get to that side of the warehouse?" I whispered to McGee, indicating the far wall. He looked over and nodded. "Good man," I said, patting him on the back. I watched as he made his way over.

"You realize you're stealing from your own people, Ari," Chayim David said.

"Your people, not mine," Ari spat back. "My people are the ones who helped my mother and me survive in a land that despised us."

"I sent your mother money for your care, your education," David replied sadly. "I gave you everything I could give you."

"Money," Ari cursed at his father. "Is that all you know? You're more worried about this money than you are for your own life, aren't you? I'm pointing a shotgun at your heart and all you think about is this money."

"My son…"

"Don't call me that," Ari yelled, cocking the shotgun. I heard Ziva gasp and make a move, but I held her back. Looking to the far side of the warehouse, I saw that McGee was in position. Sitting back, I pulled another gun from my ankle holster. Handing it to Ziva, I looked her straight in the eye.

"Do you know how to use one of these?" I asked seriously.

She nodded.

"Peaceful people, huh?" I said ironically.

"Peaceful people who know how to defend themselves."

"What kind of a shot are you?" I asked.

"I have handled handguns and rifles," she replied, "and the long bow."

"Not much call for arrows," I said, grinning at her. "I'm going to move over behind that box. When I see my chance, I'll get a shot off at Ari. You need to run over and get your father and the Senator to safety, but don't hesitate to shoot any of the bad guys. You got all that?"

Ziva nodded again. "I understand."

Carefully, I edged my way over to a large box next to Senator Todd. I could hear sirens in the distance and I sent up a silent prayer that they'd get here before the shooting started. I somehow didn't think that was going to happen.

Catching McGee's eye, I signaled that he was to shoot the other men. I saw his eyes widen and he swallowed convulsively, but he nodded firmly, his jaw set.

I held up my hand, fingers outspread. I counted down –, five, four, three, two, one. On one, all hell broke loose as I stood and fired at Ari. Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard McGee yelling to the other two gunmen, identifying himself as a police officer. They must not have cared by the sound of gunfire that followed. I didn't have time to see if McGee was okay; Ari had moved a split second before I fired and my shot grazed him. Miss David ran out, yelling for the other people to get down on the ground, tackling her father and Senator Todd at the same time.

Clutching his bleeding arm, Ari raised his shotgun and pointed it at his father's head.

"Goodbye, Father," he said, his voice chilling.

A single shot rang out and Ari fell to the ground, dead, with a bullet through his left eye. A minute later the entire place was swarming with cops.

I walked up to Ari and looked down at his body. "Good shot," I said, looking down at Miss David.

"I was aiming for his heart," she replied.

"Oh," I looked down at the body again. "Well, lucky shot, then."

I looked over to see where McGee was and found him covering the two men he shot. Neither man was mortally wounded, but they were sufficiently incapacitated. "Impressive, McGee," I said, clapping him on the back.

He grinned at me. "Thanks, Tony. This was my first firefight."

"You did good, kid," I said. "You did real good."

"DiNozzo!" I cringed at the familiar yell. Gibbs' face was stormy as he made his way over to us.

"You couldn't wait five minutes until we got here?" he yelled, getting within two inches of my face.

"I couldn't, Chief," I replied. "Haswari was starting to lose control. He would have killed Mr. David and the Senator in another minute. I had to make a move."

Gibbs glared directly into my eyes for what felt like ten minutes as I stood there, trying not to lose my cool and start blubbering. With all the excitement over and the adrenaline rush fading, I was suddenly aware of my body. My head hurt, my ribs hurt, my leg hurt and I wasn't exactly feeling that great. I just wanted to go lie down and die somewhere.

Gibbs stepped back and looked at me critically. "You look like hell, DiNozzo. Did you get Ducky to look at you?"

I nodded, trying to keep my stomach from clawing its way up my throat.

Gibbs shook his head. "You're coming home with me," he said abruptly.

"Aw, Chief," I started to argue. Gibbs spun around and glared at me, shutting me up.

Gibbs pointed to McGee, "McGee, make sure they get home safely," he yelled, indicating the Davids and Senator Todd. "Wilson!" A weathered uniformed officer sprung to attention. "Get the Coroner out here for the body and make sure those two dirtbags get to the hospital," Gibbs ordered. "Keep 'em cuffed, though."

"Yes, Chief."

Gibbs turned to me. "You," he ordered, "with me." I followed him back to his car, head hanging. I could tell he was angry, his back was straighter than usual and he barely acknowledged the others as we passed them. I knew I was in for a dressing down once we got to the house.

Wordlessly, Gibbs got in the car and waited for me to get into the passenger seat. I settled myself gingerly, looking over at him nervously. Clearing my throat, I asked.

"Is there any pie left?"


End file.
